


Girls with Problems and Eyes that Burn

by InsominiacArrest



Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Prostitution, Brief drug use, F/F, Femslash, Porn with Feelings, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-18
Updated: 2016-01-18
Packaged: 2018-05-14 20:02:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,510
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5756395
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InsominiacArrest/pseuds/InsominiacArrest
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The quarter quell goes a different direction and the revolution never occurs, Katniss settles into a reluctant life of a victor, and the prostitution that comes with it, Johanna Mason starts buying some of her time.</p><p>Joniss prostitution AU</p>
            </blockquote>





	Girls with Problems and Eyes that Burn

**The First Time**

“So,” Johanna Mason says slowly, twirling the end of a curtain tassel. “You’re a slut now.” 

 

I blink slowly, precisely at her, “obviously.”

 

She bounces her eyebrows up and down, “That’s a new trick Everdeen.” I grind my teeth and try to swallow my tongue, she was on the docket, she was a ‘costumer’. “I’d would’ve like to see it in the arena.”

 

“Well, I’ll tell my tributes to bend yours over a table when they see them next games.” I growl. 

 

She laughs hollowly, lowly, “that’s more like it.” 

 

She walks over to me in long even steps, as if relishing the sight of me following her progress. Her steps are uneven and slavish, heel toe like she was trying to dip her feet into ink and drag it. 

 

I squint at her and try to think of a thousand other things that was about to happen. Here they go...

 

She reaches her hand out, I don’t flinch, I’m not a little girl. Her hand hovers right above my left cheek and then retracts, relaxing by her side again.

 

“Come on.” She jerks her head towards the bed. I follow her gaze, of course, the bed. I walk over to the king size luxury mattress, pressing on it experimentally and then crawling onto it stiffly.

 

“So, do they say your bad lay or good one now?” She posits, obviously enjoying watching just about anyone squirm. I refuse, meeting her eyes the entire time.

 

“Bad. The worst. They say I don’t move and look at them like dead deer meat.” 

 

She laughs again, “good. Give the fuckers nothing, not a thing.” Her voice has a type of tremble to it, not sad, but full and pointed.

 

I don’t respond, instead looking at the ceiling and lying back. “Hey!’ She says, trying to get my attention, I stay in place.

 

“Hey, look at me when I’m talking to you.” She snaps, I remain stiffly positioned across the bed for a very long moment, then sit up reluctantly, I meet her eyes with all the pent up hatred stored in my veins.

 

She just looks happy. Of course she looks happy, “this is what you live for isn’t it?” I assert and can’t help but want to make her look guilty, look anything but gloating.

 

“Everdeen, I don’t live for shit, now scoot over, I don’t want to touch your trembling fuck hands.”

 

“What?” I narrow my eyes at her in confusion, as well as clench my fists, they were  _ not _ trembling.

She hops up on the bed with something in her palm. 

 

“You know I thought you would be different, with the boyfriend lover boy and the whole killer vibe you give off, but nope,” she chuckles, “the people here are as fucked up as ever. And we’re just as weak.”   
  
I have no idea what she’s talking about. “I’m not weak.”   
  
“Oh God no,” it was quiet, “now take this.” She shoves something towards my mouth.

 

“Woah! This was not part of the arrangement,” I push her hand away.

 

“It’ll make you feel like less shit.” She tries to put it closer to my mouth.

 

“I’m not going get roofied to help you get off.” I shoot through clenched teeth.

 

She pauses and then snorts, “I’m touched Everdeen,” she touches her chest, “you really think so little of me." She holds small round pill up, "These will help you forget, feel pretty damn good too.” 

I eye her up and down, acknowledging her outfit for the first time, the loose dark jacket and torn pants, it was a medley of sickness and despair, “why?”   
  
She shrugs and eyes look decidedly up, “Garmrok was in town, I like to buy all his usual ‘hobbies’ before he does. He’ll go back to being the leader of shitsville again in a few days.” Katniss knew Gamrock. A customer.   
  
“What? I don’t understand.”

 

“Pettiness kid, do I have to spell it out for you?” I was never a great lie detector, but that sounded like a mouse saying it was a lion, “don’t tell me you won’t do drugs with me at least. Unless you’d rather spend two hours talking about ‘feelings’ and being pimped out by the capital.”

 

I put out my hand, “it doesn’t mess your head up?”

 

She makes an indecisive noise, “hell if I know. I was fine but do it at your own risk.”

 

I take the blue pill and place it my mouth, I had little to lose.

 

I blink a couple times and stare at my hand, “I don’t feel anything.”   
  
“Twenty minutes. Tops. And you’ll be on cloud nine, which sounds like a good look for someone with a stick that far up there ass.”   
  
I stare at her blankly, “at least I don’t talk out of mine.”

 

She stifles a laugh and then scoffs, “woah who is the customer here?” 

 

My eyes go hard and I think I hate her, but the feeling might be mutual. She laughs unabatedly.

 

We spend a good 15 minutes trading idle barbs and then I start to feel light, feel like laughing, or floating away or finally jumping out that window.

 

“Do you think I should?” I say evenly as I stare through the glass to the city outside. 

 

“Sure. Why not. It’ll just toss you right back up anyway.” She sounded bored, like the drugs weren’t as real for her.

  
The feeling is too tempting, the one that drew me to the window, to fall carelessly for moment, a moment to let go and then drawn back up like a seesaw.

 

However, when I get up to go over to the wall my head fills with a stream of dizziness and light, I have to lie down on the floor.

 

I giggle, actually giggle, it felt like pins and needles and before I know it I’m smearing tears out my eyes. 

 

Johanna comes over and lies down next to me, we both stare up at the ceiling.

 

“What’s so funny?” She sounds put out by me ignoring her.

 

I don’t reply right away, opting to regain my composure even in light of the effects of the blue pill, “did they ever do this to you?” I ask, far too loudly for the question being offered.

 

I don’t think she’s going to respond at first then she just smiles with her teeth bared like fangs, “Who cares? They’re evil Katniss. Evil. Don’t forget it.”   
  
“How did you get it to stop?” I immediately regret opening my mouth, she loves it.

“I lost it.” 

“Lost what?”   


“Everyone. Now shut up and enjoy Blue Z, that’s all the last of the stuff.” 

That was the first time. First time Johanna bought my time and not the last.

 

\---------------

**The Last Time**

The rendezvous's continued, escalated, filled with mutual understanding and reached a new height six months in.

A height of the last time I saw her she lay me down and fucked me. Only after the time she paid for was up, when the clock ran out and she was no longer on ‘bought’ time. 

She was clear that ‘I’m not one of them.’ 

 

But she wanted me, wanted something from me, and it was like sunshine pressed against sunburned skin. To be wanted like something that wasn’t breakable was a little…easy to give into.

 

“Now, what size do you want? I don’t want to hurt that pretty little hole of yours.”

 

“Um,” I glance at whatever she was going to press inside me, “whichever.” I was not an export, nor afraid of much at this point.

 

“Okay,” she leans in and her breath tickles my cheek, “I’m going to open you up then. You'll even like it, if you even knows what that is.”   
  


“Dirty talk.” I raise an eyebrow but shrug off Johanna’s predator eyes and searching looks. 

She turns me around rips down my pants before hiking my shirt to my armpits.

 

“Let me show you something you’ve never had before.” It sounded like a threat.

She immediately rubs my breasts with her smaller cold hands, I shudder under them. She is careless but purposefully so, like she knew what she’s doing and only teasing.

 

She spends some exaggerated moments on my nipples, tweaking and tugging in the cold air while I remain quiet underneath her body, still.

 

Her hands trail down my body, bruised and scarred underneath all the layers of fabric.

She whispers sweet phrases of disgust in my ear and touches me.

“Uh.” I let out a short gasp, her hands trail down my pelvis until she pauses to rub her thumb over my clit.

“You like that?” It was the voice of delighted child, “yeah, no one else is going to do this.”    


“Tch, you mean besides myself?-Uh.” She takes her hand away and slathers in some cool, thick gel. It’s cold and slippery to the touch, she winds a finger inside me.

“This is just the beginning.”

 

I have a feeling she wasn’t bluffing.

 

She works her fingers into me, all while massaging my left nipple and keeping her palm on my clit, I huff and pant just slightly.

 

“You may be,” I grunt and don’t finish that thought.

 

“Not so bad?” She offers and gets her third finger in and I feel a little boneless in her arms, “now, wait there.” She leaves me to wilt against the bed frame. 

“Johanna.” I say faintly, she comes back over with a bright red dildo as thick as my forearm. My eyes go wide.   
  


“Don’t tell me you boyfriends dick isn’t this size.”

 

“It isn’t.” I assure absently.

 

“Good. I never liked him.”

 

“You never liked me either.”   
  


“True. But I am going to bend you over and fuck you is the difference.” 

 

I groan at that involuntarily but manage to remain defiant, she chuckles.

 

“Show me your back,” she has me to spread my legs as I splay across the large king sized bed, satin sheets and all.

“Johanna,” I say again, almost just to confirm she was there.

 

“Shh,” she says roughly, “relax. That’s the key to a good orgasm, which I may or may not wring out you until you’re begging for me.”   
  


“I won’t,” I say assuredly, her suggestion almost comical.

 

She slips her fingers into me and scissors them, “get ready.” It was an almost tender statement, a women built on blood and fury that didn’t want to tear me up. Huh.

 

She slipped into the strap on and positioned herself in front of my pussy, licking her lips as I widened my stance to prepare for her.

She pushes in.

But it was not easy.

The tip already stretched me past anything I had experienced before, even after all the whoring. 

My eyes water I forced my mind to relax, to unwind like a spool of yarren if for no reason but to defy Johanna.

Her smug whispers and reminders of an arena, of a mission, kept my determined.

She inched in one rung at a time, twisting it and trying to force any gurgled noise from out my throat.

I refuse, I accept the plastic toy inside me, and she inches at all the way in.   


“Good girl. You took it all.” I almost huff indignantly, “you better be ready though.”

She must have pushed something as it starts vibrating.

“Ah,” I exhale sharply and fist my hands in the covers, shuddering around the toy as it presses against all the sensitive curves and edges of my inside. 

“Oh yeah, there you go, feel that? That’s what everything is all about. A little,” she rocks her hips shallowly, in and out, “release.”

As if on cue I hit my first tiny climax, ricocheting through my body in pangs of brief pleasure. 

It lasts for moments but I still get slightly lost in a haze of white.

When I come back to the present Johanna is fucking me deep and long, not fast but agonizingly slow and meticulous. 

She still fucked like she lived, off-kilter, with barely a rhythm, but with a willpower to destroy, to survive and take me with her in a slow uneven burn.

I let her.

She rocks in and out of my body, the strap on as thick as my forearm taking carrying in and out, I grunt with every jut of her hips.

“You like that,” she murmurs, a plea to me more than anything, to come undone undone underneath her, like a beautiful package she, only she, could rip open with her teeth.

Her left hand comes down to press on my nipple and increase the speed, increase the hold on me. There is nowhere to escape to, I give in.

 

The haze of white over takes my vision like a stream of sparklers and I am shuddering against Johanna’s demanding eyes.

She coos and barks and I let her keep thrusting into me until I grow weak in the knees and push back on the thick toy.

I’m easily spent, climaxing in a long strain of ‘oohs’ and ‘ahs’ that reduce the world to flushed skin and one other person.

“One more.” It was a distant demand from the older women.

I’m not sure what to say.

I am brought to the edge before I know it and she is teasing and grasping until I don’t know where her hands are coming from.

I rise until everything's a blur and come back down on an ease of blank thoughts.

“Johanna.” It escapes my lips again.

I swear she pets my hair, but I couldn't be certain.

“Go to sleep.” It sounded like my mother’s voice.

I close my eyes as my body is released from the object inside of me.

“Good?” Johanna asks smugly.

I curl up and feel myself slip away.

 

Long arms wrap around my waist and for a second someone is holding me close.

“Things like this, the Capitol, it shouldn’t happen.” Finally, finally, she lifts my head and presses our mouths together like a secret. That was a new one.

 

I nod at her in acknowledgement, she lets me go, falling back down on the bed, naked and like weathered fabric crumpling into itself.

Johanna says something more, but the dreams come all too quickly and Johanna’s burning eyes disappear before my vision.

 

Johanna’s flits in and outside of my dreams like a ghost, though the images were more like memories.

 

When I wake up the room is empty, dark, I am late for whatever appointments I have next.

I clean up slowly, washing my legs and gathering my clothing like a milkman retrieving bottles in a routine fashion.

 

The cut the memories out of my mind and walk to the door.

 

There is a note on it with illegible handwriting, something lewd about ‘girl on fire.'

I snort and take the note and stuff it into the bag.

  
I could never tell Peeta. Though I retold the night to myself like a mantra and tried not too think closely at that.


End file.
